A Beautiful Mess
by Stream0Conchusnez
Summary: Miroku x Sango Lyrics provided by Jason Mraz. Rated for language, and be aware of fluff. What a beautiful mess this is... It's like picking up trash in dresses. I do not own anything. At all. :


_You've got the best of both worlds  
You're the kind of girl who can take down a man,  
And lift him back up again_

Miroku did not believe in love at first sight. He certainly believed in lust at first sight, and it was the only emotion he allowed in his resigned heart. He was going to die, and the cancerous growth on his hand was going to eat its way up his arm and on into his chest, lungs, and eventually his heart. But until then, he was going to live like every man wished to; Getting something for nothing, flirting and drowning in women, making money without losing money, never getting attached, loved by the women and hated by the men.

Until he met her. He had gone to a mixed martial arts tournament with his friend, like he had promised, and there she was. Slender and tall, every inch of her delectable body riddled with feminine muscle, supple and sleek. Her eyes captured him from the 20th row, so strong was their intensity, their focus, their passion. He typically liked women who were beautiful and weak, they were easier to enrapture and easier to leave. He had never been attracted to strong women. Ever.

But there was something in the sleek poetry of her calculated moves, her soft, straight hair, and hell, even in the beads of sweat making their way down her chin that enraptured him. He had never been enraptured. Ever.

He could not take his eyes off of her. Even when his friend pointed out a girl a few rows away, he could only bear to remove his gaze from her for mere moments at a time. He found himself not only looking at her womanly assets (which were of the highest quality), but at how delicate her feet were, how little her wrists were, and her ears were absolutely, adorably cute! He had never cared much for anything other than the face, the breasts, and the rear of women, but he couldn't help but love _every single part_ of her. He had never loved before. Ever.

Their first meeting left less than a good impression on her. He tried all his best moves, but nothing would breach past her lovely strength. It frustrated him. He had never had a woman resist him, much less _slap _him. Most would find out about his illness and then pity him enough for him to slip inside – more ways than one.

But it just wouldn't work with her! But he found that the more stubborn she became, the more he found himself falling deeper and deeper for her. He exhausted his arsenal of moves, his stock of pick-up lines, and every single trick he knew to get her to let him even put his arms around her. For once in his life, Miroku was at a loss. So, out of mere desperation, he tried one last effort. He had a feeling it might work.

"May I write letters to you, my lovely Sango?"

And with her address and pen in hand, he finally got a glimpse of the woman she would not let him know.

_  
You are strong but you're needy,  
Humble but you're greedy_

She fascinated him. He could not get enough of her letters. The first few were cold, reluctant lines scrawling out one-word answers to his questions, and resisting his feeble attempts at flirting through the paper. As he guessed, she was not a woman for technology, or for trusting.

She was an enigma; A walking contradiction. Her body moved with grace that only years of dedication and discipline could produce, but her handwriting was shittier than any guy's he'd ever seen. And of course, like everything else about her, he found this utterly adorable and intoxicating.

She could beat anyone in fighting; she was strong mentally and physically. She was weak behind her front of strength, so tender and delicate, that even a mere iota of betrayal would shatter her again. Her anger was her strength, and her anger was her shield. She hid her weaknesses behind it. She would worry about his illness, and then tease him for it.

_  
And based on your body language,  
And shoddy cursive I've been reading_

_Your style is quite selective,  
though your mind is rather reckless  
Well I guess it just suggests  
that this is just what happiness is  
_

She loved to eat at fancy restaurants, but her favorite food was frozen pizzas. She didn't wear make-up ever, but she loved to wear it when she did. She loved wearing her pajamas while she ran errands, but loved to dress up for no reason at all. She was gentle and stern, patient and impatient, a lovely, wondrous, exquisite contradiction.

He had never been happier. Oh, they argued a lot in their letters, or rather, she fussed at him for being a pervert. He had never been so blatant about it before. He had shed his controlled flirtation methods in his desire for her love. Not to mention he thought it was adorable how mad she got at him for teensy little comments like how lovely her backside was.

So they continued on in their beautiful mess of a relationship.

_Hey, what a beautiful mess this is  
It's like picking up trash in dresses_

_Although you were biased I love your advice  
Your comebacks they're quick  
And probably have to do with your insecurities_

He had never thought someone so strong could ever have any insecurities at all. But she did. He first realized it in her letter to him on March 15th, when she said that she couldn't believe his advances because no one else had ever even noticed her that way. She loved her fighting, and poured all her passion into it, but like every woman, she wanted to be admired. But now that she was, she couldn't believe it.

It made no sense at all to him. This girl was crazier than even any of the rich bitches he had dated. Those were his first thoughts. Then he thought over it again. And in his next letter, he wrote directly from the heart. He told her every single thing he had ever thought was cute about her, about how he thought about her every minute of every day, and how he wished that she could see herself through his eyes. If only she could… She would see the most amazing person to have ever graced his life, a beautiful, proud, goddess of strength, one that he could not bear to ever let out of his life again.

He wrote that he loved her, and sealed the letter and mailed it.

Then he panicked, scribbling out another letter, saying that if she didn't feel the same way he would understand but if she would give him a chance to prove himself he would gladly treat her well and that it would be really great if, if she didn't feel the same way, that she took the time to get to know him and then see if she could love someone like him, but if she didn't want to he would understand.

He wrote that he loved her at the bottom of that letter, sealed it and mailed it.

_  
There's no shame in being crazy,  
Depending on how you take these  
Words I'm paraphrasing this relationship we're staging_

Miroku was a mess for the next 36 hours. He spontaneously checked the mail every hour or so. He went for a jog, he found himself at her house, and he sprinted back to his own. He watched every single marathon on TV, but everything reminded him of her. He knew that he had just made the biggest mess he was ever likely to make. But he wouldn't mind it so much if he could make more of them with her.

_And what a beautiful mess, yes it is  
It's like picking up trash in dresses  
_

She called him, her voice shaking, and causing his heart to jump around, hitting his stomach, bouncing off his lungs, and finally settling in his throat. Her voice was so beautiful to him it almost hurt for him to listen. But he could not remember the last time he had ever been so overjoyed that he babbled as soon as she expected a response. He was a grown man! A man used to women! Not a boy receiving his first call from a girl!

They met for lunch that day in April.

_We're still here  
What a beautiful mess, this is  
It's like taking a guess when the only answer is "Yes"_

She told him she loved him in May.

_Through, timeless words and priceless pictures, we'll fly like birds not of this earth_

He asked her to share his name in September. 

_  
And tides they turn and hearts disfigure_

They fought like they did when they had first met almost every day, but their love had grown so much since that day. They cried together. Laughed together, screamed and yelled at each other, but never had two hearts been so happy, or so in love.

_But that's no concern when we're wounded together_

They had both found their happiness after so long, and even though they had to get a little unrefined to get there, both admitted they would do it all over again, the same way, a billion times, if only to achieve their happiness again.

_  
And we, tore our dresses and stained our shirts  
But it's nice today. Oh the wait was so worth it._


End file.
